


Night Storm

by spoffyumi



Series: Night Wanderings [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Sleepovers, Sleepwalking, Stucky - Freeform, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoffyumi/pseuds/spoffyumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last night had been thoroughly confusing.  Bucky, sleepwalking into Steve’s room, into his bed, into his pants...  Steve couldn’t help but think this was some subliminal desire of Bucky’s. </p><p>“You really don’t remember coming into my room?”</p><p>“I remember that time you slept over my house, and there was a thunderstorm, and you climbed into my bed,” Bucky said slowly, methodically, his voice low.  “I asked if you were scared.  You said you thought I was scared.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Storm

“Do you remember coming into my room last night?” Steve asked as casually as he could while the coffee was brewing. 

Bucky, slumped at the kitchen table, didn’t answer.  Steve supposed that was what he got for asking before Bucky’d had his morning coffee.  He sighed and flipped the eggs in the frying pan, then attended to the coffee, pouring some for both of them.  Bucky liked his black; Steve liked sugar.  Wordlessly, he slid the mug in front of Bucky’s elbows and slumped face. 

He had already turned back to put the food on plates when he heard Bucky croak behind him, “Thank you.”

“I mean, do you remember sleepwalking before?” Steve asked, settling in with his plate.  “I just worry that you’re going to do something dangerous.” 

Bucky looked at him. 

These days Steve had a hard time getting a read on Bucky.  Last night had been thoroughly confusing.  Bucky, sleepwalking into Steve’s room, into his bed, into his _pants_...  Steve couldn’t help but think this was some subliminal desire of Bucky’s. 

“You really don’t remember coming into my room?”

“I remember that time you slept over my house, and there was a thunderstorm, and you climbed into my bed,” Bucky said slowly, methodically, his voice low.  “I asked if you were scared.  You said you thought _I_ was scared.”

Steve chuckled.  “You seem to remember all of my most embarrassing moments.”

“What’s embarrassing about it?” Bucky asked.  He lifted his head, finally.  “You were trying to protect me.”

At the sight of those stormy blue eyes, Steve’s smile faded.  Surely Bucky remembered that Steve had been afraid of the thunder and lightning and hadn’t wanted to admit it?  And despite how badly Steve had wanted to protect his best friend, he had failed.  Over and over. 

He had to stare down at the egg yolk crusting on his plate to remind himself that Bucky was safe now.  Hydra no longer had their hooks in him.

The scrape of a chair made Steve’s head snap up.  Bucky had stood up, and now he was leaving.  Not knowing what to say, Steve watched him go.  It had been like this since Bucky’s return.  His friend was touchy, quick to shut down.  Steve knew better than to try to pressure him.  So he put foil over Bucky’s untouched breakfast and left it in the fridge for him, along with a number of other, similarly wrapped plates. 

All day, Bucky did not emerge from his room, not when Steve knocked softly and asked if he wanted to talk, not when Steve knocked and told him he was making dinner.  The closed door stared Steve down until he finally gave up and went to bed.

Another hot night, muggy and stifling.  After Steve shut off the light, he saw heat lightning flash in the sky behind his blinds.  He lay down on top of his sheets, spread eagle, already sweating.  When he closed his eyes, all he could think about was that night.

Thunder had woken him, loud and cracking, like it came from directly overhead.  He’d been wearing just his underpants and lying on top of a sleeping bag on the floor of Bucky’s room, and the sweat on him had turned cold.  Another boom and Steve flailed upright, hitting Bucky’s dangling arm.  Bucky had fallen asleep half off his mattress, probably in the middle of talking to Steve.

A flash of lightning, and Steve’s breath had caught.  He whispered, “Bucky?”

Bucky wasn’t awake.

He tried to lay back down and go to sleep.  Each flash of lightning had his eyes snapping back open, and then the band around his chest tightened until he could barely breathe.  Steve reached up and took Bucky’s hand, squeezing it, praying the loud booming would stop.  The next roll of thunder came slow, then ended with a sharp crack that had Steve scrambling up and into Bucky’s bed, so that the wall was at his back, and he could hide behind Bucky, out of view of the single open window.

“Stevie?” Bucky mumbled.  “What are you doing?”

“Oh, um...”  Steve couldn’t really explain why his arm was around Bucky’s waist or why his cheek was pressed against Bucky’s bare back.  “You were kind of making sounds like maybe the thunderstorm was scaring you, so I just came up here to make you feel better.”

“Oh.”  Bucky’s voice was little more than a sigh.  “Thanks.”

 He couldn’t even imagine what Bucky might do if Steve crept into his bed right now.  So much had happened between now and then... so many tragedies, large and small, standing like walls between what he and Bucky used to be.  If only they could have that back, just a little piece of it.

The creak of the floor, and Steve’s eyes opened.  Another creak.  Bucky sitting on the edge of the mattress again.  Steve half-rose on his elbows, angling away.  His body thrummed, remembering the way Bucky had touched him last night.  He could just lie down again, hope for it to happen. 

Already he was edging over, making room.

“Bucky?” Steve asked softly.

Bucky swung his feet up onto the bed, rolled toward Steve.  In the dim light, Steve could tell that Bucky’s eyes were closed as Bucky slid his arm around Steve’s waist.  Bucky’s scruffed chin alighted on Steve’s back.  Steve didn’t have much choice; Bucky’s weight made it hard to stay up on one elbow. 

He lay down, cautiously put his hand over Bucky’s.  So lightly that it wouldn’t wake him.

Soon Bucky’s soft snores rumbled against his back.

Eventually Steve’s body calmed down.  His heart stopped racing.  The hot, sticky air didn’t matter anymore; rain had replaced the thunder, bringing with it a cool breeze. 

Steve’s eyes had closed, and he had nearly settled into sleep when he heard Bucky mumble against his back, one soft word:

“Thanks.”


End file.
